


Six Feet Away

by IncubusSuccubus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-14
Updated: 2011-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-27 08:22:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/293698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncubusSuccubus/pseuds/IncubusSuccubus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Wizarding world want their perfect Golden Boy married with a wonderful (light side) girl, and have a perfect house and a perfect family; a wife, a daughter and a good job in the Ministry. But... ah there's always a 'but' there, isn't it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Feet Away

**Author's Note:**

> Publish Date: April 9th, 2004
> 
> Disclaimer: They belonged to J.K Rowling, or otherwise stated. The song is titled ‘Stupid’ by Sarah McLachland. Standard disclaimers applied.

_Night lift up the shades_

The Grand Hall was decorated in white; with yards and yards of white silk draped across the ceiling, creating an illusion of a majestic tent. The ends twirled around the roman pillars, entwined with white roses and the lilies of the valleys. The chandeliers hung so high, enchanted with flicking fire, shivering with the sound of the crystals, as if they were bells made of glass.

 _Let in the brilliant light of morning_

Bittersweet wine, dark burgundy, rich and deep in taste in baccarat flutes, reflected the old year, followed by two layers of sugar roses white dust and silver toping cake.

 _But steady there now_

He was standing there in white tux; proper, tall, dark, handsome and green gentle eyes peaked behind long thick lashes. His eyes never missed anything, the radiant of his bride, and the happiness of his two best friends, the family and the guests.

Slipped in, now playing: Air from Suite No. 3 (Bach)

He smiled softly, then, but he would shift his eyes somewhere when no one was looking, as if he was looking for…

 _For I am weak and starving for mercy_

It wasn’t by accident, not really, but one couldn’t tell if he was (not) looking. There, through the mirror he caught the pair of black onyx eyes that seemed to reflect the coldness that sent shivers of ice through his body. They blackened in intensity and piercing into his core.

Time seemed to cease to exist. Lost. Completely. Utterly. Madness. And all a million of emotions swirling like a twister in his belly. He shivered and felt like his chest cracked.

He closed his eyes from the intense emotion. When he opened them again, the black eyes were gone, and the owner too disappeared like smoke. Only the last residue of magic told him that it was real, that /he/ was there. And he tried to convince himself not to look for dark bellowing robes.

He would wake up then in some of his darkest days, sweating and erratic.

 _Sleep has left me alone_

...Remembering hurt sometimes… of scents, of soft kisses, of caresses, of two hearts beating as one, the same song, as the present came to past and will stay in the past and it would only become a memory like old wine. He would get up, went to the bathroom and lower his trouser. He breathed /his/ name in silence, imagining /his/ hands on him, biting his lips until it bled.

 _To carry the weight of unraveling where we went wrong_

He went back to his room and stared at the king size bed and the feminine lump under the duvet, wishing guiltily for another.

 _It's all I can do to hang on_

The baby was beautiful, a baby girl, healthy, with her green eyes which belonged to him, and red hair like hers but darker in shades. He kissed his daughter and his wife and let them sleep and he left the nursery room, tip toeing silently, closing the door quietly behind him.

 _To keep me from falling_

As he turned around, he came face to face with /him/.

 _Into old familiar shoes_

He walked pass him, continued walking into the living room where the others, his family, would rejoice with this new birth of hope. His little daughter was a blessing in the aftermath of war, born from the union of the heroic prince and his beautiful princess. Perfect, perfect little family. Just like everyone expected from him, a hero in a fairytale, magic, and all the sweets and all that.

I>[Chorus] How stupid could I be?

Oh, but this charade would never end, because he was the protagonist in the center of this stage, this opera that would never end. He played the role brilliantly, like any other good actors. Only his mind remain private and his heart spoke the same truth. But no one would know that. He found he still acutely aware of the other man’s foreboding presence, the black magic eyes that bewitched him. Whenever he looked elsewhere but /him/, he always return, shifting his gaze oh so subtle and caught the black eyes again for time to time, in the middle of idle chatters and the oblivious of others.

He excused himself to get more wine as he let them continued with simple banquet, relief at last to escape.

 _A simpleton could see_

He barely stepped into the hallway before a pair of white bony hands grabbed him and shoved him against the wall. And a mouth descended unto him and took him hard and fast, tongue coaxing him to open, brushing his pallet forcefully. The hands were digging into his jeans-clad-hips, holding him, clutching him so hard that he was sure he was bruised and blue.

 _That you're no good for me_

Oh it felt so wrong.

Kissing quietly in the hallway next to the living room.

It was dangerous; to be so completely possessed by the one he was not supposed to get possessed with. It was so wrong; it would destroy everything he perfectly built for his role. It was so wrong it would cost him everything.

But your heart spoke different truth, different song, and you know that.

He knew perfectly well and it trilled him as /he/ aroused him like no one else could, and there would be no one ever possessed him like the bitter-sarcastic-older man. Now.

You found out what a Dark Wizard could do to the Boy-who-lived, and you didn’t give a shit.

 _But you're the only one I see_

His eyes would darken in deep shades of forest green, not so brilliant emerald like he often used in his role-playing model. His lips would seek /his/ in frantic need, but oh the Git was like the devil, teasing him with his tongue on his lower lip, biting gently, pulling, tugging his bruised lip, and slipping in again, in and out, in and out, meting his in a dueling of tongues, or tango, he didn’t know which was better and settled on a whimper so soft that only his partner heard it, relished it, and smiled against his lips in his evil way.

 _Love has made me a fool_

Drinking in poisoned desire, the emotion that was so freely given and taken for granted, the forbidden. Sadness diluted heart, pain laced desire. How cruel could it get? But indeed it could get even worse for his state of mind. Drugs could destroy you and this addiction had, almost, near, and he /wanted/ it.

Would it be a crime to wish to be broken? Was he still the freak under the stair? That he was too tired to play perfect that he took this poison that was slowly, breathtaking, deadly, killing him?

Yes.

Not perfect.

No more.

He breathed and whispered and welcomed the darkness that was /him/.

 _It set me on fire and watched as I floundered_

The happiness that wouldn’t last long, the truest happiness, this only time, the only one he could have. The kiss intensified, rough and full of suppressed emotion. Who knew longing could be translated into kisses, sadness mingled with sweet bitter tangy flavor, pleasure he knew, that made him feverish.

His leg hooked with the other man and he almost moan out loud when the other had his slipped between his legs, pushing up against his length hard. He clamped his mouth shut and bit his lips. Their hands reached out frantically and touched whenever they could touch, under the shirt, just touching, caressing the naked sweaty skin.

 _Unable to speak_

They kissed against, drinking the words they didn’t dare to say out loud, moaning silently, sighing. Bitter. Sweet. Sadness. Longing. Heart. Hurt. Love. Lust. Want. Love. Love. Feelings so intense to fall so hard it hurt.

 _Except to cry out and wait for your answer_

He breathed out silently against his neck, /please, please, please, please/ chanting, never ending, no return.

 _But you come around in your time_

Wicked, cruel game they played. And /he/ was the devil in disguise, so wickedly played with his body like a fine instrument, devouring him whole, teasing him as /he/ smiled so evilly and dark, and he was again reminded himself that this man was a Dark Wizard.

 _Speaking of fabulous places_

The black onyx eyes gleamed as he took his hand, going somewhere where they could… stopping a couple of times; pinned against the wall; for heated kisses and hard touches, tittering on the edges, bordering to insanity.

 _Create an oasis  
Dries up as soon as you're gone_

They went into the room next to the nursery, walking toward the bed in the middle of groping and heated kisses, dancing a strange dance, shedding their clothing in a dexterity that could put anyone to shame. And they fell unto the bed, with /him/ on top of him.

 _You leave me here burning_

When bare skin touched bare skin, they groaned and moaned (thank God for silencing spell), heated, hot sweaty and oh so good, so lovely, so wrenchingly. Their need became volatile from years and years of pent up longing that he didn’t care if his lover was so rough, so passionate to take him, without preparation, no more teasing, just take him, hard, fast, again, and again and again and again until he cried out and his throat was so hoarse it hurt. Sweet blessedly pain all over his body, and in his heart that felt numb after they finished and dressed and opened the door again to face the world.

 _In this desert without you_

Days and days went by and he was alone, only to remember those ghostly kisses and the words that wouldn’t do in their world but maybe in the next life where he was not perfect and they could be together, and maybe they could make their own fairytale, or nightmare. And the bittersweet only taste so long in his lips.

 _[Chorus] How stupid could I be  
A simpleton could see_

Sitting here, proper with his wife and daughter in their dining table in their perfect house, he gaze at his wife, beautiful as ever like his mother.

 _That you’re not good for me  
But you’re the only one I see_

Loved her, as his daughter’s mother, but it couldn’t replace, not ever, the one he had lost. The ache in his chest dulled in time, only leaving him with numbness and the day-by-day routine he had to do. More the fool he was, and probably still.

 _Everything changes_

Children grew older and they grew old.

One would say the heart also grew fonder. There was no doubt he loved his family and his daughter was his jewel.

He found himself standing in the Grand Ballroom again, different than twenty years ago, but oh still the same. The chandeliers still twinkled, the food was excellent, and the veils draped across the ceiling were colored in white and a tint of green.

He still smiled when others objected the marriage of his daughter, still miffed at him because he agreed although her mother was not. But she would understand, it was their little princess that was mattered. Even if the little princess wanted to marry the Silver Prince of Slytherin, of all the men in the world, one of their year rival/enemy to be exact. That cocky grin and platinum blond hair was not mistaken, and who couldn’t forget the silver blue ice that only showed warmth when they gaze at his daughter?

Every fool could see they loved each other, didn’t everybody see? But there was a song that say: only a fool fell in love and only one that was one knew what was it like, and he /knew/ that look; that only be described in the book of love.

He looked at them when they danced, and he felt a tear fell from his old jaded eyes. He would pray for their happiness and glad that they were given the chance and love that he was not.

 _Everything falls apart_

He gaze at the mirror across the ballroom, at the same spot twenty years ago, and once again caught with the memory as black eyes met his through the reflection (of the past). /He/ looked old, tired but still proud and strong and dark. He still felt the familiar arching in his heart, the coldness of those gaze, but less intensive. A flicker of something, not magic, that still shared between them.

 _Can't stop to feel myself losing control  
But deep in my senses I know_

And the memories flooded back, more intense than his past twenty years of dream-torturous-lust-love-bitter-sweet-love.

 _[Chorus] How stupid could I be  
A simpleton could see_

They were standing far yet so close and yet too far. /He/ was talking with his former students, the groom and the bride and some Slytherin from the bride’s house (wonder never cease for the Daughter of the great Hero was sorted into the House of the Serpents). All the while, he was pretending to listen what his wife and close friends were ranting about the weeding he was blessed them with. He told them to get over it and be happy, that shut them up and they move to a different topic despite their irritation, trying to stop his best from trotting their ex-rival.

 _That you’re not good for me_

Their eyes still held like magnetic field, fire cracking. He could almost feel the heat radiant from the older man, the sweet smell of musk, herbs and spice that made his body tingled and bothered though his face remind blank and polite and proper.

They were standing so close, too close?

Only six feet away… only…

 _But you’re the only one I see_

He closed his eyes and turned away. Somehow.

 _[Repeat Chorus]_   


\- [Fin] 090404

  



End file.
